Shaken and Broken
by take-everything-and-more
Summary: Emily's hands won't stop shaking and Paige keeps having flashbacks at all the wrong times. They may have trouble fixing each other. Multi-chapter.
1. Chapter 1

**Trigger warning**

Sometimes Emily's hands still shook without her even knowing. She'd be taking notes in class and suddenly she wouldn't be able to read anything she had just written and she'd realize the death grip on her pen and that her hands were shaking. She'd surface at the side of the pool, gasping for air after a workout and realize that her fingers were white-knuckled as they gripped the wall, but even as tightly as she hung on her hands still shook. Sometimes she had to retype a text four or five times because her fingers could not be forced to find the right keys.

Emily wondered if her hands would ever stop shaking, if they would ever stop feeling like the hot and slick feeling of blood was still on them. She wondered if her hands could ever stop feeling exactly what it was like to grip the wooden handle of a knife and feel just how easily something deadly could slip through skin. She wondered if she could ever feel like her hands were really part of her body again. She wondered if she could ever stop hating them.

To forget the shaking of her hands and the vision behind her eyes of the way Nate—he would always be Nate—looked at her as he was dying, she occupied her hands with Paige. Her hands didn't shake when she was running them down the girl's body, when they tangled in her hair to pull her head back for a deeper kiss, or when they traced the line of her jaw. Her hands didn't shake when she pulled Paige's hips roughly into her own. They didn't shake when she was inside her.

* * *

Paige understood Emily's sudden sexual ferocity. She understood that instead of talking about what happened, Emily was using the sensation of the body to process her feelings. Paige knew about using the body as a tool—it was how she felt about her own body. She swam and she ran and she raced her bike as hard as she could because the body could get through what the heart couldn't. When Paige had been at her lowest in the years that Ali had tortured her, she had used the body's exhaustion to drown out the stream of self-hatred in her head. You could beat the body into submission, but you could not do the same with the heart. Paige understood bodies, and so she understood what Emily was doing, but she didn't know how long it would be before her own body broke.

Emily had pulled her into the locker room for the school pool. They often came here at night, Paige using her swim captain's key to let them in when there was no one was around. The place always smelled of chlorine and at night there was a wet heat to the air that made it harder to breath. This space felt like something that belonged to them both, a place of return and a strange sensation of safety. They needed that feeling of safety.

Emily's hand traced up her arm and across her neck, holding Paige's cheek in her hand. Everywhere that Emily touched lit up, burned incandescently white like light trails on dark nights. The lines Emily traced across her skin felt alive, as if her body hadn't known what being alive meant before.

* * *

She had Paige pressed against the tiled wall, trapping her with her body and her want. The relief she felt in pouring herself into her want was incredible—almost as if she didn't hate a part of herself, almost as if her hands were always as steady as they were when she held Paige.

Emily pressed her thigh between Paige's legs, relishing the feeling of heat there and the gasp from the other girl. She caught the tail end of Paige's moan in her mouth, kissing her deeply and tasting the heat in her girlfriend's mouth. Everything was so much clearer when they kissed. All the buzzing in Emily's head cleared out like so much static, as if she was finally tuning into a clear station, a strong enough signal, and that beacon was Paige. Paige- who she could taste on her tongue and whose skin was already slick with the heat from their wanting.

Kissing Paige felt like a heatwave—her vision shimmered. She tightened her grip on the auburn haired girl's hips, running her thumb along her hip bones and pressing on the skin just beneath them. Paige bucked against her, lowering her head into Emily's shoulder to take shallow, shuddering breathes.

Emily pulled a hand up into the shorter girl's hair, tangling her fingers through it and running her nails along the back of Paige's neck. Page gave a short cry as Emily pulled her head back and locked onto Paige's neck with a hard kiss.

* * *

Emily had her pressed her against the wall, her skin burning hot against Paige's and the girl's tongue in her mouth. Emily tasted like heat, like burning, like want, like spices that made your eyes water and your breath catch. Emily caught Paige's lower lip between her teeth and gave it a sharp bite and Paige could taste the copper of her own blood before Emily's tongue was back in her mouth. Her body felt like it was on fire, as if there was so much tension from want in her that her bones might break under the strain. Paige broke the kiss to gasp for breath and Emily ran her thumb along the spot of blood on Paige's lip, leaving a burning kiss on her jaw and then she was back to kissing her neck, her mouth lingering where Paige's pulse beat wildly through the skin.

_Nate's left hand held the pocket knife to her throat as his right twisted through her hair, pulling her head back. Nate's mouth was at her neck, his tongue running down the line of it, tasting the salt and fear on her._

Paige closed her eyes and tightened her body. She was here. She was now. She was with Emily. Nate was dead.

Emily ran her hand beneath Paige's shirt, and she shivered as the taller girl traced a line with her nails across her stomach and ending at her breast.

_Nate's hand let go of her hair, but he still kept the knife at her throat. Paige watched his predator smile as he yanked her shirt up and squeezed her breast so hard that her vision whited out._

Paige clenched her teeth to choke back something between a sob and a howl.

"Stop. Stop! You have to stop now." She gasped, and pushed Emily backwards, avoiding the look of hurt in her girlfriend's eyes by spinning herself around and pressing her forehead into the cool tile of the wall.

She was here. She was now. He was dead. He was dead, but she could still feel him everywhere.

* * *

Emily felt a sick fear growing in her stomach as she watched Paige's shoulders shake with the long shuddering breaths her girlfriend was taking. Her body felt lost away from Paige, awkward and without purpose. Emily ached to hold her, to soothe her, to try to understand, but her hands didn't feel made for softness any more. She was afraid if she touched her, she might cause Paige to break.

She didn't understand what was going on in Paige's head—had never really understood. Paige had always been something of an enigma— wild and unexpected and full of passion and fear and a desperation to be loved. And Emily did care for her, but her feelings for the girl didn't provide any easier access into her lover's mind. Paige's emotions were always just under her skin, ready to blaze up, like the slightest bit of friction would set them alight, but what the auburn haired girl was thinking was not so readily available. It was rare that Paige opened up to whatever emotional hurt was plaguing her, and Emily treasured those few insights into the guarded girl, even as she ached for the pain she had been through alone.

"Paige," Emily said, hearing the pleading in her own voice, "please talk to me."

They hadn't talked about what happened. Neither girl could seem to find the words. Neither wanted to find the words. They had held each other and cried and fucked, but they couldn't talk. It had felt so much easier that way- it had almost made her think that they might never need to talk about it. Emily was struck with the sudden gut-twisting knowledge that this silence had been a very bad idea.

Paige let out a last juddering sigh before she turned to face her. Emily saw how tightly her hands were still clenched and she saw an unreachable distance in her lover's deep brown eyes.

"I can't, Em."

That look and those words and suddenly Emily was terrified she might actually be losing Paige. Emily hadn't realized that it would feel like this to lose her. It felt like stairs collapsing under her feet. Paige loved her with an intensity that had scared Emily at first, but always drawn her in. The idea that it would be Paige drifting away from her terrified her and felt _wrong- _felt completely opposed to who she knew Paige was. Paige's feelings for her were the constant, the thing that kept her from floating away. What was Emily without Paige loving her?


	2. Chapter 2

Emily had watched in the locker room as Paige battled to calm herself. She had seen the tension in the muscles of her girlfriend's back, the tightness in her neck. Paige vibrated with it. She'd looked like wire that had been coiled past its breaking point. Emily listened as Paige fought with her breathing, fought with her body, fought to just stay upright. Emily had never felt so helpless.

"I can't, Em." She'd said.

Paige had sounded so final. Emily's body felt like a mass of confusion, like nothing was quite connected right, like she needed an instruction manual for her own skin. She took a step forward, reached out to Paige.

Something flashed in Paige's eye. The quickest flinch of fear, of revulsion. It was less than a second and then there was apology in the auburn haired girl's face, in her eyes, but Emily had already seen it, had finally been looking for it.

Paige closed her eyes, rubbed them hard with her hand. A crash of metal and frustration filled the room as Paige slammed her fist into the side of the lockers. Emily flinched. Paige shook her head with another look of apology, left towards for the pool, her body absent from the room but the pain she left behind like the after-image from a camera flash.

Emily sat down hard on one of the benches that filled the locker room, gripping the edge of the wood with hands she realized were trembling. A loathing for her hands, for her ignorance, filled her like black tar.

When Maya died, something in Emily had gone dark, like there was a room inside of her that would always have the light off, always have the door locked. Paige had been a miracle; a way to stop trying to force that door, to stop pounding on it to open, to stop shouting a goodbye she knew couldn't be heard. Emily had thrown herself into the kiss by Paige's pool in a way she hadn't let herself before, and it had been such a relief to just let go. Paige made her own room in Emily, enlarged it every day, brightened the light inside little by little, and on the days she still found Emily clawing at that other locked door Paige held her, steadied her.

When Nate died—when Emily made Nate die—she was left with a whole fire-razed city inside of her—a mess of rooms and doors stretching on into nothingness that she knew she could get lost in the rest of her life. Emily knew the only way out would be to throw herself into Paige, lock the door and never come back out.

Pain is blinding. Beyond the slamming of those doors inside her head and the shaking in her hands Emily hadn't seen Paige's hurt, hadn't realized the extant, the magnitude. Now she realized she had locked herself in a room with someone she'd made a stranger.

With a sensation of sick clarity Emily crystallized the feeling that she'd been having for months now, every since A had begun; she was someone who hurt people. That was just who Emily was. Someone who caused pain.

_Please,_ she silently prayed to her trembling hands, not knowing who else to pray to, _Please stop. Please stop letting me hurt her._

* * *

Paige was used to fear. Fear of failure, fear of disappointing her parents, fear of her own desire. She could write a roadmap for fear, give tours, point out all the best landmarks. Whenever Paige read about people feeling "safe" in their relationships she rolled her eyes. Pursuing Emily had never felt safe. She may have moved past the fear of coming out, but she had traded up for a whole new set of terrors.

Now that she was finally with Emily, Paige had to be afraid of her almost super-natural talent to mess things up, of getting it wrong _again_, of ending up being the wrong person for the girl she'd loved for years.

She was proud of loving fiercely in spite of her fear. Fear didn't stop you from competing; it didn't stop you from winning. She could feel herself slipping with Emily, like that moment just before the end of the race when you suddenly knew you were about to be out-touched and no amount of pushing through could stop it. She wanted to fix what was happening between her and Emily, fix them, but she could almost taste the words she would need to say, and they tasted like Nate, and it made her choke. Paige had never known a fear that paralyzed like this.

The two girls were sitting at the edge of the school pool. Paige had needed to leave the closeness of the locker room, needed to be in a place where it felt like there was more air to breath. It was an instinct that felt half wild animal, half claustrophobic. After several minutes Emily had padded softly after her. Now Paige had her jeans rolled up and her legs in the water. There were no lights on in the pool, so her skin ended in an abrupt cut off of inky blackness, as if a part of her just stopped at the water. Emily's legs were tucked up under her, her hands balled in her lap. The space between them felt like a minefield. They didn't know how to navigate around each other without someone getting hurt.

* * *

Emily reached out to touch the surface of the dark pool, the shaky trail of her fingers sending stuttering ripples through the water, like some terrified code for _help_.

"Paige, I don't know what's happening here-" Emily started, words tumbling out of her before she could make sense of them. She stopped. She had to say this right, as if the right words in the right order could fix this, could stop the world from falling apart.

"Paige," she began again, her lover's name the first- the most important- link in the chain that could fix this, "I don't know where you go when I touch you sometimes. I wish you'd tell me what's happening in your head. It kills me to know I've been hurting you somehow—that I didn't even know I was hurting you— that I didn't see it—"

Emily stopped, closed her eyes, clenched her teeth and pulled her head back so that the tears that were starting, the sob she could hear in her voice, could stop.

* * *

Paige had promised to protect Emily and take care of her, but the pain and fear inside her own body felt too strong to manage. It felt bigger than her own skin could stretch, as if Nate was still there, just underneath the surface, like blood blisters and bruises and trauma. She knew, _she knew_, Emily must be hurting too- that her innate gentleness was rebelling at her involvement in a killing, that instead of dealing with the emotional fall-out she was burying every conflicting emotion under a blanket of lust. When Paige had sworn to protect Emily it had never crossed her mind that there would be a time she simply would not be strong enough for the task. Paige couldn't comfort her girlfriend and hold the slow-cracking parts of herself together all at once- couldn't even do that last bit possibly. Paige had never been so disappointed in herself.

Now she could hear the crack in Emily's voice, hear exactly how hard it was for her lover, the only girl in the world, to keep it together. There was no light to pick up the shine of tears in Emily's eyes, but Paige knew they were there all the same.

She thought of Emily's eyes, how deep brown they were. Nate's eyes were brown. Had been brown. There hadn't been any of the softness of Emily's eyes in his. She could never see him when she looked into the darker girl's eyes, but even though there was no similarity to be found she couldn't help but make the comparison. Every single time.

She didn't want to add any more pain to Emily's eyes. She couldn't tell her what happened. That was the only thing Paige could do to keep her safe. Paige felt like she was curling herself around a grenade, pulling the destruction as close to herself as she could. She couldn't let Emily get caught in the explosion that was ticking away inside of her.

"I don't think we can be together anymore."


	3. Chapter 3

Emily sat on the dock of the boathouse Maya had used to be so fond of. Her fingers absently folded origami boats out of the stacks of paper that the girls had left behind the last time they were there together. She had tried to make half a dozen already, but her fingers shook along every crease, tore the delicate corners, fumbled the folds.

She hadn't been here since Nate; disgusted that she had let him touch one more thing of Maya's, afraid that there might be some lingering emotional residue of him here that would cling to her fingers if she touched anything. Whatever she had been afraid to find of him, she hadn't. He wasn't here. Nothing was. The place felt empty, as if it hadn't once meant so much to her. There was nothing of Nate here, but also nothing of Maya.

There were candles next to her, and matches. She'd found them with the paper, remembered the lit up boats on the water, remembered how Maya had held a match as it burned down towards her fingers, laughing at Emily's yelps of concern for her. Maya had been so fearless. It was so hard, so unfair, to think about her dying afraid.

Emily sighed, closing her eyes and laying back on the dock. Whenever she thought of fear, she thought of Paige. She had never known someone who was so afraid, and so determined not to let fear beat her. Emily didn't understand what had changed.

Paige didn't look at her in the hallways. Her eyes slid off Emily like she was an oil slick, like she was a trap to be avoided. The night Paige had delivered her time bomb about not being able to be with her anymore, the two girls had sat by the pool until gray light came through the high loft windows. The light didn't angle down at the pool, didn't catch it on fire with light the way it would later in the day. Instead it looked like slate or like quicksand- the kind that wouldn't so much pull you down as it would hold you in place until you gave up in exhaustion.

Once there had been enough light to properly see the auburn haired girl, Emily had watched Paige's face. There were no tears. She was as still as the pool. When Paige had pulled herself up the illusion broke—she wobbled on legs that had gone to sleep during their long silence. Here was her Paige again. Emily had reached out to her instinctively, steadying her against a fall. Paige had jumped back as if she'd been burned. When the shorter girl had left the room without a word Emily hadn't gone after her.

Emily felt herself reaching blindly for the pack of matches, catching the box in her fingers finally. She held them in front of her face, considering them. Clearly just a touch from Emily was enough to hurt Paige. She had prayed to her hands for a way to stop hurting her lover and here was her answer—be done. She pulled the box open and took a match, preparing to light a candle to send down the water to say goodbye to Maya.

To say goodbye to Paige.

Only her hands decided they didn't want to say goodbye. Emily tried to strike the match, her fingers shaking so wildly it barely made contact with the box. On her fourth try the match head snapped off.

"_Damnit!" _Emily yelled, throwing the box of matches out into the water.

Emily could hate herself for her tears then, knowing that it fixed nothing and helped no one, but she couldn't stop.

* * *

Emily's absence from Paige's life caused her almost no discomfort. This wasn't surprising—Emily was new growth, a bright new green off-shoot that Paige had never expected. It was a miracle of opportunity, and Paige had mistrusted her good luck for as long as it lasted. It was even comforting when it was done and the pretense of Paige getting what she wanted could be dropped for reality. It was just like twisting off the thin new limb of a tree. Some things needed to be pruned. Paige could go back to feeling smaller, could still contort herself to fit into that old role.

The only change was that Paige hadn't been sleeping well. When Emily was locked tight in her arms, Paige had been able to sleep, despite the terror that felt so at home in her bones. Without the soft skin of the darker girl- the smell of jasmine in her hair, the steady beat of her heart, that happy hum Emily had whenever Paige woke her with fingers running along her hips- Paige just couldn't sleep.

Now exhaustion kept shuffling things around in her life, taking away some things and replacing them with others. It was like waking up in a house that someone had reordered during the night- like a lock turning the wrong way, or a light switch not quite where you remembered it. The constant flux left her disoriented in her own skin. There went her ability to focus in class, but here was swaying and seeing lights whenever she stood up; there went her ability to balance on a bike, but here was almost 15 seconds added to her last lap. Every day was a string of bitter surprises in what task she had lost the ability to complete and what bizarre trade-off she was given in return.

Paige lay in her bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling, watching the fan spin and spin, and waiting for her alarm to go off so she could get up and go. Her parents insisted she stay inside until at least 4:30- her father setting the morning curfew when they caught her swimming laps at 2am several nights in a row.

Paige thought she understood the body, thought she had learned what control was, but despite the discipline she had spent her life painstakingly learning, things had slipped. Her preparation was impeccable- most of her life had been an exercise in telling her body no. _No_, you can't take a break, get back in the pool. _No_, shut your mouth, don't talk back to your father. _No_, it's training season, skip the snack. _No_, you will not cry, Alison cannot win. _No_, look away, you are not allowed to love her.

It took those moments where saying no, yelling no, begging no, had meant nothing for Paige to lose complete confidence in her control of the body. Even dead, Nate could still take things from her.

_Nate smelled like sweat and lust and anger. He was so angry she could taste it._

Paige stiffened, nails digging into the palms of her hand. She was here. She was now.

Here.

Now.

Watch the fan spin and spin and spin. She was so tired.

Paige's eyes flickered, she let her fists loosen, let something that felt like sleep arrive to lessen the burn behind her eyelids and the throbbing at her temples.

_Nate was pressed on top of her, holding her down, calling out Emily's name as she begged him to stop, please, please stop._

Paige was out of bed and heading through the door before she even realized what was happening. She glanced at the hall clock as she slammed down the stairs, heading for the outdoors and air—2:45am.

_New record, McCullers._


	4. Chapter 4

Paige shakes herself out on deck, shaking her arms and hopping up and down to try to keep loose. It's essential she stays limber before a race, to be nothing but taut heat and elasticity, the body already moving before the mind even begins to click into place.

She checks her goggles for the millionth time, adjusting them and immediately undoing the adjustment, all the usual pre-race jitters. There's a cheer from the crowd as someone takes a lead in the pool.

One thing Paige had never been able to do was tune out the crowd. She'd listened to countless stories from athletes- how once they were "in the zone" the spectators just disappeared. Paige wished she had such selective blinkers; wished she could turn the bright flashes of color in her peripheral vision into chalk lines in the rain, watch them melt away into an indistinct mass. Her inability to shut the crowd out came from a lifetime of being aware of people's looks—her father, Ali, _Emily_—and making sure they couldn't see any crack in her, any vulnerability. She'd let Ali see a break once, the biggest one, the massive fault-line that ran through her being, and the other girl had sunk her fingers into it and pulled. Paige hadn't liked some of the things that Ali had unearthed in her. Emily was the first person she had willingly showed those imperfections to. She couldn't seem to help it; everything just tumbled out of her in front of the darker girl. With a flash of Emily's brown eyes she was tripping, dropping all those things she'd been carrying around with her at the girl's feet—her anger, her insecurity, her love. Now that Emily was off-limits, Paige was careful to the point of paranoia not to repeat her mistakes, her clumsiness. Paige knew her level of hyper-awareness and self-policing wasn't the kind of applied skill she could turn on and off, so she suffered the effects during game time, accepted that she'll have to endure the crowd. She holds up through her father's stare from the bleachers, her coach's worried glances, Emily's sly sideways looks.

She knows they're worried.

Paige had been bumped to the third slot in the free-style relay—the slowest leg. She'd been dropped outright from the individual race line-up. Everyone was concerned about how she was taking it, and now they were all watching her for signs of hair-line cracks, fractures, exposed pressure points.

It was ridiculous and infuriating—Paige had been spending more time in the pool, more time working out, than ever and yet still her times were ticking upward, every half second gained on her time spurring yet another set of angry laps at home. Her body felt lean, rangy, but also like there was no power in it, no mass behind the stripped down flesh to propel her forward. Paige knew that the over work and lack of sleep were pushing her body into exhaustion, into something that felt like impending shut-down, but she just couldn't stop.

* * *

If it was possible to turn the sound down on a life and reduce the saturation levels until the spectrum was mostly grays, then that's exactly what someone had done to Emily's. Moving through her life over the course of the past few days had been an exercise of will-power. It took all of Emily's concentration to get up, get through the day, and move through it doing a passable imitation of someone who was actually conscious of the day's events, of someone who actually cared what happened next.

Emily was anchoring the free-style relay. It was an accomplishment her coach and her friends had been quick to compliment, but slow to notice how it took a moment for Emily to react to the news, how the act of false happiness took a few seconds to put on.

Emily watches as the second swimmer in the relay dives into the water, building on the comfortable lead her earlier teammate had built her. Watching the race gave her a way to occupy her eyes, but Emily still couldn't help looking over at Paige when she could, watching the other swimmer go through the pre-race rituals Emily was so familiar with, had such affection for.

Paige brushes past her as she heads to the block, nodding to Coach Fulton's last few bits of advice before she climbs onto her spot. Emily exhales a shuddery breath and bends down to Paige's ear.

"Bring me home." She says.

It's a common enough expression from any anchor on the team, and Emily isn't even sure Paige has heard her until she sees the slight twitch in her back, a tightening of her fingers on the block, and she knows that Paige heard it exactly how she meant it.

* * *

Paige dives into the water, timing her extension into her stroke until the moment just before she will start to lose momentum. With every tilt of her head to breath she hears the crowd before the sound switches over to her other ear, gets herself used to the clicking over of sound as she moves across her first length of the pool. She pulls a tight flip-turn, her body a practiced spring. Under the water she can see how the other swimmers have been gaining.

Paige surfaces and silence burns in her ears. She nearly misses her next breath in surprise. The noise of the crowd is gone; there is no ringing in her ears, just complete quiet. This doesn't feel like an athlete's selective deafness. She stretches her arm for the next stroke, trying not to remember what silence is to her now.

_The closet is dark and it smells of age and being forgotten. Paige strains to hear something, anything beyond her own shuddering breathing behind the duct tape._

Paige finishes the stroke, takes a breath.

_Nate is bringing Emily. Nate is going to kill Paige in front of her, and she has been left bound in the closet, left with silence and the memory of Nate's words._

Her leg jerks, misses a kick. She corrects and keeps going.

_"You're going to stay in here and you're going to be quiet. No crying, nothing. You're going to be quiet or I'll keep you alive while I show you exactly what I want Emily for."_

Paige chokes.

Chlorine burns down her throat; water sets fire to her lungs. She splutters, tries to take another breath, misses a stroke, pulls her head back underwater, tries to push forward. Out of the corner of her eye she sees the girl in the lane to her right edging up on her. Paige lunges forward with her whole body, but the strokes keep missing, the timing is all wrong, she can't find the balance, and still this _silence_ in her ears.

* * *

Something was wrong with Paige.

Emily saw the other swimmer stall in the water, like someone had switched her off for a moment, blinking in and out like the flicker of an old light-bulb.

Emily nearly pushes off the starting block, nearly throws the race, nearly jumps into the pool to catch her, hold her up, because something is deeply not right.

Coach Fulton's hand is grabbing her arm, the older woman seeing the conflict in Emily in the way her body twitches forward on the block. The coach's hand stops her, but doesn't comfort her.

"We can't help her out there. Let her finish." The coach speaks in her ear.

* * *

Paige knows she's lost the race for them before she touches the wall. She hauls herself out of the water with all the ferocity she can force her aching body to give, yanking her goggles and swim cap off as she does. She brushes by Coach Fulton's outstretched hand, past the nervous looks of her teammates, refuses to watch Emily try to pick up the pieces of her performance.

She storms into the locker room, slamming open the door to her locker and yanking out her clothes, pulling them over her suit, hearing the rip of fabric as she yanks too hard on the shirt. She stuffs her goggles and cap back in and slams the door closed. Part of her wants to open it back up just so she can slam it again. Instead she slaps her palm against the door, the stinging shock of the pain shooting up her arm, lodging someplace in her head, setting something dark inside there to twitching.

Paige tries to steady herself, stop the dangerous sway in her body and the pounding of her heart, but the harder she tries the more something inside of her burns, the more the sting in her hand feels like the answer she's been wanting.

Paige is vaguely conscious that she's unraveling, that the exhaustion and the pain she's been trying to keep in too small a space have conspired to let the rage she's been attempting to tame all her life off the chain. She can almost hear the rattle in her head as that chain hits the floor and somebody else starts to take over.

The rage flexes inside of her and she yells, slams her fists into the locker. She pounds the metal again, and this time the side of her hand catches against the lock. There's blood and it hurts, but it also feels so fucking _good._

Paige screams again, kicks at the locker, jars her leg, and with another yell throws her whole body into the wall of metal, slamming herself against the shivering steel until her side feels numb.

She wishes she could scream every scream she'd wanted to in the cabin that night, wishes she could empty herself of that enforced silence, the silence that she kept, was still keeping, was keeping from Emily, was still locking inside of herself.

"I'm still here, you bastard! _You didn't win!_"

* * *

Emily swims the fastest time she's ever clocked. It's not enough, the Sharks finish fourth, but Emily could care less about the results of the race. Her speed had nothing to do with records- she just wants to get out of the water and get moving towards Paige.

She catches Coach Fulton's eye and the older woman nods towards the locker room before turning back to her other girls, setting them up for the next relay. Emily wraps a towel around her waist and dashes towards the door, pulling off her goggles and cap as she moves.

She sees Paige as soon as she enters the locker room, the auburn-haired girl leaning with her head against the lockers, eyes shut and breathing heavily. Paige quivers with energy, with force.

Paige has pulled her warm-up pants on and the faded gray Shark's team shirt. Her suit is soaking through the fabric in patches, dark spots that look like holes, or wounds.

With a sudden start Emily notices the blood on Paige's fists, the shorter girl's knuckles torn up and dripping. In her shock it takes her another second to see the blood on the lockers, to make the connection.

"Oh, Paige." Emily doesn't know what else to say, what else she can offer.

Paige laughs humorlessly, eyes still closed and shaking her head against the locker, "Oh, hey Emily. So nice to have _you_ here."

When Paige opens her eyes and moves towards her it's like watching an animal hunt, like the few prowling steps before the full sprint and the violence. Paige's hair is still in her tight race braid, but strands of wet auburn hair catch across her eyes and around her ears. She looks wild, more than wild- feral.

Something starts pinging at the back of Emily's mind, telling her she should be afraid, but she's looking at Paige, her Paige, and she just can't bring herself to be frightened of her. She can't do that to her.

Paige slips one arm around her waist, another through her hair, pulls Emily to herself, and kisses her.

Even in the middle of the other girl's rage there is something about Paige's mouth that is achingly sweet. It makes Emily's body tingle and her palms hurt just to taste her. She is desperate for this, desperate for Paige.

But the shuddering in Paige's body ends the dream. Emily opens her eyes; sees how tightly Paige's own eyes are closed, how tears are streaking down her cheeks, how everything about the shorter girl is screaming for escape. Emily could recognize escape in the body, had practiced it on Paige only a few days ago.

She pushes Paige away, the place where her skin connects with Paige's almost forcing a betrayal in her hand, almost convincing Emily to pull her back into the kiss. Winning out against the temptation, she breaks the contact, forces her hands in front of her body to keep distance between herself and the panting girl.

"Paige, stop, you don't want this—"

Paige grabs her wrists, pulls Emily's arms to the side and over her head, pushes her against the lockers with her body.

"Don't _tell _me what I want!"

.Paige kisses her hard.

* * *

Paige isn't thinking anymore, she gives over to the body. There's just darkness in her head, and wanting, and Emily.

* * *

Emily wants to pull back from the kiss. For the first time since Paige ambushed her and kissed her in her car, Emily wants her to stop. This isn't Paige—she might be there, somewhere underneath all this pain and hurt, but the girl touching her now isn't the one she's in love with. Emily needs her Paige to come back.

She pushes back against Paige but her wrists are still trapped in the shorter girl's grip.

"Paige, stop," Emily gasps as Paige's mouth finds her neck, wants her, but wants her differently than this.

Paige's grip tightens on her wrists, the contact no longer burning just with lust but with pain, and Emily can't help it, can't help herself—she's afraid.

"Stop! Paige, you're hurting me!"

Emily catches Paige's eyes and just like that she let's her go; let's her go and gets a dazed look in her brown eyes, like she can't quite remember what's going on. Emily watches as Paige's eyes flick over her face, takes in the fear still written there, takes in the red marks still burning around Emily's wrists, watches as comprehension comes into Paige's face. Emily watches as something starts to break down in the shorter girl.

Before Emily can learn if whatever has been broken can be fixed, Paige whispers a soft _I'm sorry, _and is out the door.


	5. Chapter 5

Paige yanks the laces of her running shoes tighter than they needed to be and double checks that her earbuds are secure before she takes off for her first run of the day. The sun was just barely up and everything was still gray and misty, like faded polaroids or the film filter used in flashbacks. It made Paige feel unreal.

Since the meet she'd taken several days off school. Her parents had been happy to oblige; Paige hadn't even needed a half-hearted excuse about not feeling well.

They hadn't even attempted to hide their relief at the news of Paige and Emily's break-up. Their blame of the other girl was instinctive, a parental prerogative they couldn't ignore if they tried. Paige didn't talk about that night with them, and she could sense the fear that stopped them from asking. They hoped some distance between the girls might make the events of that night recede a little for their daughter; might break the cycle of 2am swim sessions and night terrors.

It didn't.

The first day at home Paige had curled herself into her bed, keeping the room in darkness, the only sign of time passing the deepening of the shadow across the wall. Regret filled her, actually crouching itself inside of her as a physical pain, like a writhing worm of guilt and recrimination that she just couldn't quiet. It hurt to sit still with the pain, but it hurt more to move. Paige was aware of the soft keening sound she was making, a sound that seemed to well up inside of her, a wordless attempt to release some of the pain she thought might honestly kill her if it didn't stop.

The second day she spent in the shower, turning the heat up by increments until her skin was red and the room filled with so much steam she could hardly breathe. She considered her razor.

The third day she decided to kill thought with movement.

The music pounding through her ears is mostly just white noise to her. Noise and her own breathing fill up her head and there is almost no room for anything else. Paige can almost ignore the darkness wiggling at the edges; the feeling of Emily's resisting body against hers, that edge of fear in the other girl's voice.

Paige breaks into a sprint. I'm here. I'm now.

The sprint lasts longer than it should. Houses blur past, then trees, then the thicker foliage of the deeper parts of the forest trail. The light grows stronger, but the feeling of unreality stays. As her breathing grew hard, then hoarse, and her shirt went from damp to drenched, Paige went from herself to something else. Every pounding footfall, every mile, she can feel parts of herself dropping off her, forgetting the pieces of herself that are still clinging to those images of Emily's skin, Emily's body, Emily's eyes. When she finally stops running, drops to her knees sick with exhaustion, she almost can't remember who she is.

Paige falls onto her back and closes her eyes, choking out a laugh at being so happy to forget. Who needed to be here and now when she could be nowhere?

And suddenly Nate was there with her.

"Hi, Paige."

At the sound of his too familiar voice Paige scrambles to her feet, shoes slipping on wet leaves. The stiffness the run had built up in her legs nearly pulls her back down again, but the fear that's coursing through her like battery acid keeps her upright.

"Did I scare you?"

Paige blinks hard, shakes her head, looks back at him. He stands in front of her; a looseness to his stance, an easy confidence in himself that made him look like a wild animal that hadn't quite decided if it was hungry.

"You're dead."

Nate smiles. It's a real smile; genuine and sparkling, and all the more terrifying because it is so convincing.

"Do I look dead?"

And Paige can see that he doesn't. There's no blood on him, no hint of a past hurt. He keeps that smile up, opens his hand to show her the LJ pocket knife in his palm. When he flicks it open it's the sound that sends Paige's body back to that night—back to pain and fear and breaking.

Nate moves toward her, every step he takes closer to her making it harder for Paige to breath, to think. Paige wants to move, wants to hit or to run, but something in her is frozen, like the messages of panic her brain is frantically screaming to her body just aren't getting through. Nate is inches from her now, so close she can see his chest move as he breathes, see the heartbeat on his neck. Nate grabs her wrists, pulls them over her head. She feels the edge of the knife against her fingers.

"Now this is familiar." He says.

Paige's paralysis snaps as her body finally remembers what it is to move, to fight, but there is no power behind her compromised position, no way to break the hold. She tries to lash out at him with her legs, catch him on the shin, but he slams a knee into her stomach, collapsing her into his hold with a gasp of pain.

"I wanted to thank you, Paige. You're doing a real good job."

Nate's grip on her wrists tightens and she hisses through her teeth in pain. Nate presses himself against her, leans his head against hers.

"Paige, you're hurting me," he breathes in her ear, and he sounds so much like Emily.

She opens her mouth to yell, and then nothing.

Paige opens her eyes, blinking them against sunlight that has grown far brighter than she remembers it. She feels the ache in her back where she'd fallen to the ground, blacked out from her exhaustion, seen a vision of a dead man.

Paige stays on her back. She had been so focused on what Nate had taken from her that she hadn't realized what she had learned from him; the lesson in violence she had practiced on the person she cared for most in the world.

Nate was right. He hadn't really died.

* * *

Emily tried not to let the afternoon rush of people at the Rear Window Brew get to her.

Her parents had made her take several weeks off of work after Nate, but she had finally convinced them that an over demanding boss and the daily mantra of _espresso, café a lait, decaf, iced, skim, to go, _was preferable to the stifling, if well-intentioned, attention at home.

Today was harder, though. She kept dropping change when it was handed to her—quarters and dimes beyond the dexterity of hands she could not force to behave. She had already spilled steaming hot coffee on a customer when her hands shook handing him the drink. Kevin had finally pulled her off the register in frustration, confining her solely to making drinks as he shouted out orders to her in a blur.

"Emily! Come one, pick up the pace a little, huh?"

Emily barely caught the metal milk pitcher Kevin shoved into her hands before he breezed off to micro-manage something else.

"Latte. Steam it. Go." He called over his shoulder.

With a frustrated sigh, Emily wrapped her hand in a rag and pulled the steam wand into the milk. Dropping the thermometer in the container she watched carefully for the temperature to reach 140 degrees. The milk thickened, reaching a consistency that made Emily's stomach turn- eating had been hard the last few days. Reaching in to remove the thermometer, her hand gave a sudden start, jerking it into the metal of the steam wand, sending Emily into a blind shock of pain and the milk container spinning, more burning liquid splashing onto her wrist, the steamer sputtering heat into the air.

Emily grabbed at the burn, squeezing tight as if she could choke the pain before it began. Kevin started toward her, his hand outstretched in concern. Emily flinched away instinctively, hiding the hurt away from him, already annoyed with herself for letting it happen.

Somewhere in Emily's head a circuit closed, illuminated a truth.

As the milk ran a steaming path across the floor and her hand began to throb brightly with pain, Emily remembered the way Paige had flinched away from her in the locker room, the way she moved and bared her teeth like an animal in pain. There had been a hurt there, something she was hiding away from Emily, something she was holding on too tightly to, like trying to stop the pain from a burn by pressing it hard enough, like blaming yourself for something out of your control.

That's what Nate had done.

There was a brief moment where her mind tried to throw out the thought, dismiss it, send it away to the deepest depths of impossibility, but the knowledge refused to leave, settled into every part of her body the way only truth can. Emily leaned against the counter, not trusting herself to keep standing under her own control.

Everything about the last few weeks took on a new energy, a certain sinister forward motion, like clicking a dark pane of glass into place over everything. Emily had been too close to Paige to see the whole picture, too near the other girl to see Nate standing just outside the frame, smirking when they kissed, whispering in Paige's ear when Emily touched her.

Emily had thought Nate had only taken Maya from her; that she'd stopped him before he could take Paige away from her too, but she had been too late to save all of Paige. He had taken the other girl farther away from Emily than she could have ever expected, left something of himself in Paige that was far more lasting than a scar.

Now that Emily knew she felt sick with the knowledge, like the sensation of blood on her hands had only been a tiny fraction of what guilt and regret could be.

She had thought Paige pulling away from her was a result of Emily's pressure, of Paige feeling used, but how could she have missed what Nate was capable of? It was all twisted through him, threaded in the way he moved. It had been the ownership in the way his arm had slipped around her when she was trying to let him down easy, in how enraged he had been at Emily, at Maya, at Jenna for leading him on. It had been in the way he held Paige against his chest when he had the knife to her skin. And it was in Paige; in the way she pushed Emily away, in the way she had unraveled after the meet. It had been there, why hadn't she seen it?

_Jesus Christ, why hadn't she seen it?_

* * *

Paige barely took the time to yank off her running shoes and socks before she plunged into the pool.

The cool water should have felt extraordinary against skin that had been hot and clammy with sweat only a moment before, but guilt immediately chased away any pleasure it might have given her. Paige let out a breath, let herself sink to the bottom of the pool, let the water surround her and the echoing sound fill her ears.

She had done everything she could to escape what had happened that night. Almost everything.

* * *

Emily bolted out of The Brew so fast she nearly slammed the door in the faces of a group of women coming in. Oblivious to their angry calls after her, she jumped in her car, slammed the door, gunned the engine.

_Wait for me, Paige._

When she finally arrived at the other girl's house- anxiety filling her every time her eyes caught the dashboard clock clicking forward another minute- she parked haphazardly in the front drive, leaping out of the car. She didn't even bother with the front door, immediately dashed towards the backyard, towards the pool.

Emily skidded to a stop on the concrete patio, eyes scanning across the backyard wildly, a momentary fear that she had been wrong, that she had missed Paige, that if she didn't find her now everything would be lost, like losing hold of someone's hand in the fog.

Just as her fear threatened to sink her, she caught sight of Paige at the deep end of the pool, crouched beneath the water, her body very still.

"Paige!" Emily screamed.


	6. Chapter 6

To hold yourself under water when your lungs are burning is an art.

Paige had first learned it at seven years old, face down in the pool, refusing to lose a match of dead-man's float to the boy in her swim class that had been competing with her for weeks.

It was all about not wanting to win.

This had been hard for little seven year old, fiercely competitive Paige to learn, and that was why she hadn't won at dead-man's float yet.

You had to stop wanting to win, and stop wanting everything that went along with it.

It wasn't just about not breathing; you had to stop wanting to breath. You had to forget there was a space in your chest for air, forget that breathing was something you had ever learned to do. If you let your lungs want air, you had lost.

You had to close your eyes and stop wanting to see anything but black, and then you had to stop wanting to see even that. If you let your eyes want sky and sun, you had lost.

You had to stop wanting movement, stop wanting to feel any sensation in your body. It was more than going limp—you had to flip the lights off in every limb, the knowledge that you had any extension beyond your own mind had to end. If you let your body want to thrash towards the surface, you had lost.

You had to stop wanting a world beyond yourself. There could be no thought of the body in the water next to yours, struggling to beat you, no thought of who you were trying to impress with your win, no thought of who would hold you in their arms and congratulate you. There could be no thought of who would love you, miss you if you disappeared in the water. If you let yourself want anyone else, you had lost.

Last, you had to stop wanting to _be. _Alone without breath, or sight, or body, you had to pull yourself into the tightest space you could imagine, and then obliterate that space. You could not want if there was no one to do the wanting. If you let yourself want continuation of consciousness; to experience, to feel, to think, to _live_—you had lost.

This had been difficult to master, and as hard as seven year old Paige tried, she was never quite successful, always stumbled at the final step.

As she grew older the task of letting go became harder and harder to do. Her father insisted on winning, and she took that to heart, mistook his constant pressure for her own motivation. She wanted to fulfill him to fulfill herself. Ali demanded that she disappear, the ultimate loss, and Paige had rebelled at that. She wanted to live just to spite her. She had wanted to hide her true self, and then she had wanted to prove she was strong enough to embrace that self. She wanted to be someone that was counted on, she wanted to be a friend, she wanted to be there for whatever was needed, she wanted her love to be more than a dream, she wanted to comfort, she wanted trust, she wanted to protect. At 17 Paige found herself with a whole mess of wants, and most of all, always, like her own heartbeat, she wanted Emily.

Paige had thrown herself into her wanting, had competed, had won. The harder something or someone pushed back at her, the more Paige wanted, the more she tried. 17 years old and no one could break Paige of her wanting, until Nate; until Nate had poisoned the whole idea of wanting for her. Until wanting led her to hurting the thing she had most of all, always, like her own heartbeat, wanted.

Letting herself sink to the bottom of the pool, Paige closed her eyes, began the process to stop wanting; to stop wanting Emily.

* * *

As Emily's body hit the water she learned that you didn't have to be the one dying to see your life flash before your eyes.

Emily saw her life and there were so many mistakes.

She had let Ali be in control for so long, let her string Emily along with her hands touching Emily's wrist for too long, fingers sliding up her skin _just so,_ the touch ending just short of the other girl being sure of Ali's intentions. Ali kept her on a leash with the sly looks she'd shoot Emily in the middle of a conversation, looks that made the other girl feel like it was just Ali and her in the room, even if their three best friends were right there, talking and laughing along. She'd let a dead girl keep her wishing, keep her from moving forward, keep her with a bracelet on her wrist that felt more and more like a chain every day.

Emily could see Paige at the bottom of the pool. She was limp. There were no air bubbles rising.

When "A" had arrived she'd let herself be pushed around just as easily, slid into the familiar space of fear and obeying orders. Letting someone else dictate the course of her life had cost her relationships, her team, and sometimes her sanity.

Emily kicked hard through the water, waterlogged jeans and tennis shoes fighting against her movement.

Maya had felt like freedom after that, but even in that first taste of independence there had been failure. She'd pulled away from Maya, afraid of finally getting what she wanted, afraid of someone who wasn't just teasing her, someone who would challenge her to own her desires. Then Maya was gone, and even once she came back it had been too late, she had missed her chance—some lines only intersect once.

Emily could see that Paige's eyes were closed now. There was a look on her still face that terrified her. It looked like letting go.

And Paige—Emily couldn't have made a mess of them any more than she already had. She'd walked away from her when Paige was unwilling to come out, so afraid to be sucked back into the fear she saw mirrored in Paige's experience. She'd kissed the boy who tried to kill them. She'd tried to drown her fear in Paige's body, too selfish and in pain to find out why that was the worst thing she could have possibly done to the other girl. She couldn't end on that, couldn't let the last thing Paige felt in her presence be brokenness.

Her hand finally cut through the water, caught Paige's wrist.

_Please, Paige, I'm not done yet. We're not done yet._

* * *

Paige was limp in her arms, heavy.

Emily was aware that she was screaming something, screaming at the other girl, but she had no idea what she was saying.

* * *

At first Paige didn't feel the hand on her wrist—that part of her body had long since been forgotten.

When her head broke the surface of the water she didn't notice the air, didn't brother to pull it into her lungs—she could not remember a time when that need existed.

It was the voice that brought something back to her, something forgotten, but treasured, something she could almost remember, if she wanted to.

_Emily?_

* * *

Emily spluttered to the surface, hitching Paige against herself, trying to keep the auburn haired girl's head above water. She kicked towards the side of the pool, dragging Paige along with her, wet clothes and the extra weight of Paige making even her desperation slow.

Paige wasn't making a sound, her head lolling against Emily, and she couldn't tell if the other girl was breathing, the terror inside Emily screaming that she wasn't.

Emily managed to pull them both to the shallow end of the pool, managed to prop Paige up against the edge, scrambling out of the water to pull the other girl out from the side.

At the sound of Paige coughing she dropped the other girl's arms, fell to her knees to look in the girl's face, take her head in her hands.

"Paige! Paige can you hear me!"

* * *

Paige tried to focus her eyes, still the ringing in her ears, remember what it was to be in control of a body, to be a person.

Someone was holding onto her.

_Emily._

Emily was holding onto her.

"God, Paige, you _scared_ me! What the hell were you doing?"

Paige coughed, chlorine and the burn of new air tingling in her throat, said the first thing that came to her mind, told the truth.

"Wiping out," she croaked.

Emily went rigid and for a moment Paige thought the other girl was going to slap her. Then she looked like she might kiss her. Instead she just stared.

Paige felt numb, or something like numbness; like the tingle of emptiness after you notice you're bleeding, but just before the pain starts. Paige didn't know if there would be a time where she felt something again; even here, dripping water on the concrete with Emily leaning over her, her insides felt like they were still at the bottom of the pool.

Paige didn't feel like she had the energy to haul herself out of the water. Rather than trying to drag the tired girl over the edge, Emily helped lean her against the side. They were in the shallow end now, and Paige could manage to support her shaky body half on her legs and half on the arms she had thrown over the side.

Emily had been silent during her adjustments to Paige's position. Now she headed inside to find towels, glancing back at Paige over her shoulder every few steps. Paige could tell just from the way she moved that as soon as she was out of sight Emily would start crying.

* * *

"Where are your parents?" Emily asked.

"They're out of town. They're in—"

"Scranton?" Emily finished for her, and Paige almost laughed. Almost.

Emily walked to the edge of the pool, Paige marveling even in her haze of emptiness at how the darker girl could move like liquid, like mercury, like curves in glass. She crouched beside where Paige clung to the side, the towel she had brought forgotten on the concrete next to her. Emily's hand reached out, almost touched her face, stopped.

"I'm so sorry." Emily said, and her catching with the tears she had tried to hide from Paige.

Paige sighed, the shudder in her body sending out ripples through the water. The way Emily was looking at her, the way she said those words—Emily knew. Paige couldn't tell whether she should feel devastated or relieved. Mostly she was just tired, like every nerve in her had been on fire for a month and now everything was just burned out, an ash pit in her chest. She lay her head on her arm, pulling Emily's still out-stretched hand to rest on her hair with the other. She could feel Emily's fingers trembling.

"I wish I could have told you." Paige said, and Emily had to lean in close to hear her.

"Why didn't you?"

Emily's voice was almost a whisper, and Paige filled in all that Emily hadn't said, but meant to ask.

_Why had she given in to the other girl when it was hurting her? _

_Why hadn't she asked for help? _

_Why had she turned Emily's touch into pain?_

Paige didn't know if she could answer all those questions. She'd been running on adrenaline and the harsh high of pain and those decisions were instinct, animal, indefinable. Now that it felt like she had exhausted every feeling on the spectrum, her thoughts over the past few weeks were unclear. The only thing that she had held onto with every ounce of her stubborn tenacity was the desire to keep Emily safe.

"I didn't tell you because I didn't want it to hurt you. I thought I could protect you from that, from what was going on in me. I thought I could be _strong_."

Page spat the last word, disgusted with herself for ever feeling so confident, for failing so badly, falling so hard.

"I promised you I could. I _promised_! And then when I couldn't—"

Paige knew she didn't have much to offer Emily. She had been a bully, a coward, a temptation, and now a promise breaker. She couldn't follow through in giving Emily the _one_ thing she had thought was in her power, was within her limited range of attributes.

Emily had a capacity for giving that stunned Paige, awed her with the simple generosity of the other girl. She was the embodiment of forgiveness. Emily had already dismissed and forgotten the things Paige had put her through, refused even to acknowledge the cracks they had left as if she couldn't even see them. Paige's gratitude towards Emily's forgiveness was laced with terror. If Emily gave too much, let Paige keep taking, failing, falling, fucking up; if Emily excused her worst excesses, how long until Paige became a monster? How much would Emily let her take without complaint, how bad could Paige be for the other girl and still be unable to let Emily go?

Emily had shouldered so much of Paige's damage; she hadn't wanted to press this on the girl, too.

"I know I had to talk you into this. Into us. Into giving us a chance."

Emily opened her mouth to speak, but Paige shook her head at the other girl, took a long breath; prepared for a difficult truth.

"And Nate—" Paige paused, tried to slow the impulse for speed and panic in her words at just the mention of his name, the exhaustion she felt about everything else clearly not affecting the thoughts of him that were ricocheting like shrapnel through her head; thoughts that sliced just to think them.

"After Nate I felt so broken. I was broken and I couldn't stop myself from needing you, from hurting you. I had to push you away because if I was broken, what could I give you? What could I possibly give you that would keep you with me?"

Paige's head was still resting on her arm, so she missed the look of absolute hurt in Emily's face.

"Paige, that was never how I felt about you."

Page sighed, shook her head. Emily's initial reticence to be with her, the rejection that had come so often early on in their relationship, coupled with an insecurity that Paige had nurtured for years, made her incapable of believing Emily's words now.

Emily took the other girl's face in her hands, forced Paige to look up at her. Her eyes were as dark as she'd ever seen them before, something like anger, like betrayal, flashed in them.

"I can't believe you think that—that you had to be strong or unbroken or something for me to give you a chance. That was never how I felt about you. Never."

Paige bit back the _why then? _on her tongue, swallowed down the bitter words.

"I didn't need you to be strong Paige. I just needed _you_."

Emily paused, her silence the soundtrack to Paige's confusion before she continued.

"My whole life I've been over-thinking things, too scared to go for what I want. And then even when I do get what I want, something goes wrong, it gets taken away again. And then there's _you,_ and you know what you want and you just go for it. Even if it gets messed up or broken you don't give up—you still go after it. And you wanted _me_! You were fighting so hard for _me_. Seeing how much you let yourself love made me think I could try to feel that way again."

Emily's thumbs were running up and down Paige's skin, as if she was trying to remind herself that the girl was really there.

"Paige, you had already shown me how strong you are. You had already shown me how much you wanted to protect me. You didn't give me a chance to do the same for you."

Tears had started in Emily's eyes, catching on her eyelashes as she tried to blink them away.

"And I know I messed up." Emily chewed at her lip, bit down hard to keep herself going, "I know I shut down and stopped talking and used you, and I'm so sorry Paige. I'm sorry I made you feel like you had to do this alone. You didn't. You didn't have to be alone."

There was so much sincerity in Emily's voice, so much softness in her brown, brown eyes.

Something tried to catch in Paige. It was difficult, like trying to spark a flame over wet wood, but it was there—the heat of Emily's nearness trying to stir up an ember from the fire that had gone out in Paige's chest.

Paige looked at Emily and knew that what the other girl had said was true, and her heart sank over the chances she had missed, over the doors she had closed on Emily.

Maybe she hadn't lost the keys to some of those doors.

"You don't have to be alone either, Emily."

* * *

Emily tangled her fingers into Paige's wet hair, knowing what the other girl wanted from her, knowing it was owed, knowing that silence between them was what started this. She took a deep breath, tried to start slow.

"That night with Nate—when I watched him die, when I did that to him—I felt like less of a person, like I was never going to feel like me again. I couldn't believe I had to walk around my whole life knowing that I ended someone else's—I still can't believe it."

Emily couldn't help the tears as she spoke. She knew Nate didn't deserve them, but it wasn't about what he did or didn't deserve; it was about the things he'd taken from her, and the things he'd forced her to take.

"And then when I knew what he'd done to Maya—," Emily trailed off, not wanting to find the words that would end that sentence, the words for the pain Maya must have been in.

"When he died—when it was finally over—it felt like," it caught in her throat, "it felt like she was really gone for good."

Emily closed her eyes, let her head drop, dark hair falling in front of her face, "I didn't want to say goodbye to her like that," she said softly. "Not with more death."

Emily could feel her hands shaking. They felt hot and sticky and she was afraid that if she let herself look down at them she would see red. Her voice cracked.

"I never wanted to be glad that someone was dead! He did terrible things, but that was never something I wanted to feel!"

Emily felt like there wasn't enough space in her body for what she was feeling, felt like there might not be enough space in the world for it. She was so angry at Nate, at herself, at Paige, at everything that kept her from being the person she wanted to be, from doing the right thing. This was never going to stop, she was never going to feel okay, her hands were never going to stop shaking, but then she forgot how to breathe, because Paige was touching her, had caught her hands in her own, had brought them to her lips, was fighting the trembling in her fingers with her kisses.

* * *

Paige pulled the darker girl's soft hands to herself. She placed a kiss in the center of Emily's palm, felt it's trembling and heat on her lips. She ran the other girl's hands across her cheek, tangled their fingers together, kissed Emily's fingertips. She poured every ounce of safety; of understanding, and care as she could into the darker girl's hands, hoping she could conduct it between their skin like electricity, fill Emily with every spark of light she could catch—fill her hands with fireflies.

The shaking in Emily's hands finally stopped.

Paige held Emily's stilled hands to her lips, savoring the feeling of Emily against her as if starving for the other girl's skin was truly something she could die from.

Paige knew how much Emily loved Maya, would always love Maya. Bound in that closet she had heard Maya's final video to Emily, her last appeal to the other girl that they should be together. Even in her fear for Emily, in her fear for herself, she felt the quiet and sure knowledge that as long as the two girls were alive, Maya would always be in the room with them; always just a little beyond their vision, but present all the same. Maya wasn't the past—she would be always, but Paige didn't believe in everything or nothing, didn't believe that Emily should have to cut off parts of herself just to satisfy Paige. After all, it was Paige who was holding Emily's hands now, Paige who could feel the heat of her skin and the heartbeat in her wrist, Paige who could still touch and kiss and comfort. She couldn't bring herself to be jealous; this had always been enough. Enough and more.

* * *

Emily looked at the girl below her, took in her wet hair, the shoulders that finally seemed to be released from the tension of the last month, the way she could just see the rise and fall of Paige's breathing.

_Thank god_, Emily thought, _thank god she's alive_.

The thought felt like an exhale after holding her breath for too long, and Emily realized that since that night she hadn't let herself believe in their safety, hadn't stopped looking over her shoulder, hadn't stopped feeling like Paige was going to be pulled away from her. After what happened she had thrown herself into Paige to stop the shaking in her hands, but also to make the most of the time she had unconsciously felt was running out. And it almost had- the future almost sinking to the bottom of a pool- but it hadn't. She'd caught it in time, and now here was Paige—Paige with dark circles under her eyes and too thin arms and a whole mess of pain—but alive. She was alive, and more than that, she was still Emily's Paige.

Still the girl who felt things so strongly she couldn't wait until the morning to say them, had to bike over in the rain, had to wake Emily up to tell her.

Still the girl who could see her crying over Maya and hold her like that didn't take everything.

Still the girl who could give up comfort from Emily when she needed it the most, could send her to hold a friend instead.

Still the girl whose kisses felt like love letters, felt like she was trying to press every feeling in her body into Emily's skin.

Emily remembered her fear in the locker room, her terror that Paige had shifted into something else; the real Paige disappearing behind the layers of an angry stranger. She had been afraid that her Paige, the girl she loved—

Emily froze.

In her stillness something clicked into place, fell through her body like something sinking into warm water. It felt like bolts being pulled back and doors opening, like landing in the plane that's taking you home. It felt like the rightness on your tongue when you say your lover's name, like the feeling of peace after so much thunder when it finally starts to rain.

_Oh_, Emily thought, marveling, _When had that happened?_

But the knowledge was already there; a seed that had been planted some time ago, she would never know exactly when, grown into something living and green that took her breath away.

_I love her._


	7. Chapter 7

Emily's fingers ran the lightest touch across her cheek, so soft and tentative that Paige could almost have invented it, willed it into existence with just the _wanting_ she felt stirring in her. She turned to face the girl kneeling above her, catching her dark eyes with her own lighter ones. There was something resigned in Emily's face—or maybe not that—maybe something deeply content and immovable. Something accepted. Paige had never seen that look before.

_What was that look?_

A thrill of frustrated craving ran through Paige as Emily withdrew her hand from her hair, her body keening at the loss of touch. Despite the lack, she could almost forget her frustration while she continued to watch Emily. The light from the pool cast shifting blue waves across the darker girl's face, lighting up her skin, catching the darkness in her eyes, and adding a flickering glow to her hair.

She was so beautiful.

Paige didn't understand how so much of her could ache for Emily, for wanting her, and another part of her could be too afraid to touch her; still be bound in a closet, terrified to make a sound.

Emily stood up slowly, pulling her tank-top off as she stood.

"Em?" Paige managed before she got lost in the sight of Emily's bare skin, the line of Emily's torso as her arms stretched upwards.

Emily unbuttoned her jeans as she walked to the end of the pool, pulling them down and stepping out of them in one fluid motion. Paige turned in the water to watch her, one hand still unconsciously gripping the side of the pool, knuckles whitening at the sight of Emily's flawlessness, of her incredible rarity.

Emily began her descent down the steps, the water reaching up to meet her as if it was as hungry for her as Paige was. As graceful as Emily was on land, there was still the realization that the other girl always looked like she was made for water. Paige swam like she was in a fight; Emily swam like it was a dance. Paige first fell in love with the way Emily moved through the water.

Emily waded towards her, stopping just out of the other girl's reach, the ripples from Emily's movement to her lapping at Paige. Paige shivered, felt the thrill running up her spine, and as the charge reached her neck she felt the fire that had been trying to catch inside of her finally flicker up, catch, crackle from her heart to her fingertips. Every desire she had worked so hard to let go, every nerve she had been so sure would never feel again after the silence beneath the pool, was ablaze with _want._

She wanted the taste of Emily's skin on her tongue and the way her hips moved against her. She wanted Emily beneath her and her lips between her teeth. She wanted her hand a fist in Emily's hair and her fingers inside of her. She wanted Emily to buck, to moan, to kiss, to call her name. Paige wanted her.

She was finally brought back from the fire that had kindled in her ribcage by the knowledge that Emily was still standing in front of her, watching her, the moment of silence stretching out between them with Paige's distraction.

Emily looked at her, and in her eyes was a careful question, a need for assurance from the other girl that this—that she—was what Paige wanted.

* * *

Emily held her breath as she waited to see what Paige would do, whether the auburn haired girl could forgive, accept, and still want more of her.

She watched the moment of decision in Paige's eyes, willing the other girl to pick her, but trying to prepare herself for a loss, for a dimming of something bright and good. She tried to imagine the room inside herself that her love for Paige would live in; the possibility of having to lock that love away filling her with a wave of aching. The thought that she could realize this love only to lose it in the same minute was beyond her ability to imagine, to bear.

* * *

The very first time Paige saw Emily they were both underwater. She was 14 years old and it was the day of high-school swim team try-outs. Paige felt as focused as she had ever been, ignoring the chatter of her fellow hopefuls, adjusting her goggles and undoing the adjustment, just like she had a million times before.

She allowed herself to be nervous when she mounted the block; allowed that moment of blind panic and the sensation that she shouldn't be here, that she couldn't do this, that she wasn't good enough, before she squelched it down inside of herself, kept it captive for another day.

She had a perfect start—body already moving halfway through the sound of the whistle. There was a flicker to her left at the same time she dove into the water, but she ignored it, fell into the speedy rhythm of her first strokes. Her first length was solid. She could feel from the tension in her muscles and the number of breaths she had taken that she was right on target for her personal best. It was on the turn where things started to fall apart.

Paige powered up to the wall, pulled into a flip-turn, and in the middle of that moment of upside-down disorientation she caught sight of the girl in the lane to her left. She was tall and dark and she had a fantastic body and she was in the middle of a _perfect turn_. This girl was going to take her lead.

The first thing Paige had felt was rage. It was the second and third thing too, but as the girl to her left kept steadily pulling ahead, she couldn't help but be jealous of her skill, of the line she made through the water; like it wasn't so much a race but a dance. Halfway through the length of the pool, jealousy turned to admiration. Paige worked hard, she knew she was fast, but this girl was clearly _beyond_. Her obvious strength made Paige wonder if she could ever be that strong, made her itch to try. And perhaps it was lack of air, and perhaps it was her body being pushed beyond it's capabilities, and perhaps it was because she felt that just from looking at the way she moved through the water that she knew this girl—knew the love and joy and passion that made her up—but by the end of that length, as her hand touched the wall far behind the girl to her left's, Paige knew that she was in love.

Later that day Paige learned her name was Emily.

Every look they had shared since that first time had only served to convince Paige that she had been right about Emily all along—that this was a girl who could beat her and make her feel good about it, this was a girl whose gentleness could tame the roughest edge on someone and find their shine, this was a girl who would try to teach you how it felt to do something just for pure happiness again—this was the girl that she loved.

Now Paige looked at Emily like a whole life of looking would never be enough. She had spent years looking at Emily, hoping and praying, and now here was Emily, finally looking back at her. Paige couldn't bear the thought of letting fear, or darkness, or brokenness, dictate the time she did have with Emily any further.

Paige met the other girl's darker eyes and nodded slowly, reaching a hand out to pull her lover to herself.

* * *

When Paige nodded, held her hand out to her, Emily felt like there must be so much light in her body that even the darkness of the last month would be lost in its shine.

It was nothing compared to the light she felt in her chest when they kissed.

Emily was used to kissing. She was used to kisses that meant nothing, kisses that were for show. She was used to kisses that were unexpected, unconscious reactions of the body, a surprise to give and to receive. She was used to kisses of passion, of heat and desire and forgetting that your lips had any other purpose. She was used to kisses of comfort, of the way a kiss can tell you that you're not alone.

She was not used to this kiss.

This kiss felt like the moment that free-fall turned into flight.

Paige's lips met hers, and for the first time Emily felt confidence behind the other girl's movements, felt the pressure behind the kiss as she opened her mouth, felt the sweetness and heat of Paige's tongue.

Paige's hands were at the skin of her neck, running down the lines from her ear to her collarbone, sending waves of heat everywhere she touched. Emily leaned into Paige's embrace, let herself deepen the kiss, committed to it like she had never let herself before.

Emily ran her hands up Paige's arms, buried them in her hair, felt Paige's soft cry into her mouth. She ran her tongue along Paige's lower lip, pressed back into the shorter girl's mouth as she rocked their bodies together, every point of contact from their hips to their breasts tightening and aching with heat.

The girls finally broke the kiss, foreheads together and eyes still closed. Emily truly believed that if she opened her eyes at that moment she would be able to see their glow.

* * *

Paige watched Emily's face, watched the unconscious smile on the other girl's lips. She ran her thumb along that smile, and Emily sighed happily and opened her eyes.

The darker girl caught a lock of Paige's wet hair, twisted it around her finger once before tucking it behind Paige's ear, her touch lingering for a moment before she ran her hand down to the shorter girl's wrist, the contact making Paige's whole arm tingle. Paige had been so caught up in the fire of her want that she had let herself forget a few things—things like Emily's wrists.

Paige took Emily's hands in her own, holding them like a gift she was afraid she didn't deserve, one she was afraid of breaking. She looked at the lightening bruises she could still just make out on Emily's wrists, shame starting to fill her like flood water rising in a house, threatening to trap her under the flow.

"Em, I am so, so sorry—"

"Paige, stop." Emily said softly.

Paige hung her head, choking back tears with a shuddering sigh.

"Look at me."

Paige managed to drag her eyes up to meet Emily's, wishing she could convey the guilt she felt with just her eyes, because she didn't know if there were words remotely strong enough to contain it. There was so much softness in Emily's face, so much grace, as she spoke.

"I love you."

Some tightness inside of herself that she hadn't even been aware of, some troubled knot, finally unwound. Paige heard herself let out a sound between a laugh and a sob as she felt Emily embrace her, felt the darker girl hold her up as she cried so hard she thought it might never stop. Emily was holding her, tightening her arms around the girl to contain her trembling. She kissed Paige everywhere- her cheeks, her ears, her neck, her forehead, and through her own tears and shaking she could hear Emily telling her over and over between her kisses, "I love you. I love you. I love you."

* * *

Emily held Paige, rocked them back and forth in the water until the auburn haired girl's sobs finally died out, until her breathing stopped hitching and at last slowed, until she simply leaned into Emily and everything about the other girl felt warm and at last emptied.

Emily held her like that for a long time.

* * *

In that endless moment in Emily's arms, Paige began to feel like the terror she had been holding in her bones could recede, could pull back like low-tide and leave the rest of her washed smooth. She had a momentary vision of what that would be like, of how over time that night would start to shrink and fall deeper into her body's memory. One day she would stand on the edge of herself and see that night, like a penny at the bottom of a pool, the water moving over it so that even finding a clear image of it was impossible. There would be so much else besides that night to fill her, like water, like Emily, like love.


End file.
